


The Morningstar’s Sun

by Sylph_of_Space



Category: Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Clueless Natalie, F/M, Gangs, More characters to be added, More tags to be added, Multi, Speakeasies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylph_of_Space/pseuds/Sylph_of_Space
Summary: 1927.Prohibition, speakeasies, gang wars, economic booms and crashes, all of this and more affects the cities. But, Natalie McAllister hasn’t noticed. In fact, it’s the last thing on her mind. Her focus lay on her day job and her apartments rent and what she would eat for dinner that night. Why would she even need to think about the rest of it?Lucifer Morningstar is busy trying to keep his speakeasies alive and thriving, but there’s been quite the crackdown from the police on prohibition. Usually, he can slip past them thanks to some, ahem, connections, but lately... it’s been rough. He’ll survive, though. He always does.
Relationships: Natalie McAllister/Satan | Lucifer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	The Morningstar’s Sun

**Author's Note:**

> *Click.*  
> *Whir.*
> 
> _Now playing..._
> 
> “Daddy Issues” by the Neighborhood

1927.

Prohibition raged strongly across the country. In the countrysides, it didn’t seem to matter as much. Farmers could make moonshine and drink as they pleased, as police were hardly on their property. In the city, if one wanted a drink, one had to ask around discreetly and find a speakeasy, hidden behind a bookcase or false wall, going through several hoops. Truly, compared to the city folk, farmers had it made.

Well. Sort of. See, in _some_ cities, people just didn’t care. They would stick their middle fingers high in the air at the law, showing off their drinks in public spaces, exclaiming how stupid the rule was. And in some cases, police would join them. It was rather common to catch a cop in a speakeasy late at night, which is how so many were left ‘undiscovered’. The police wanted a drink as badly as the next guy, so why would they give up the locations they frequented?

This would all be fascinating to some, but to Natalie McAllister, all of this was the furthest from her mind. In fact, all she was thinking about now was if she should change the mop bucket water before finishing the floor. It did look rather dirty, and she did have half the floor to do... she glanced around as if looking to see if she would be caught-but it was just her in the dimly lit street corner cafe-and then kept mopping. 

Soft music played from a radio in the back corner. The sun had long since said goodbye, leaving just the moon and the stars to shine through the sparse clouds and streetlights dotting the road. She sighed, stopping again and leaning on the mop handle. _What do I have left to do? I’ve cleaned up the kitchen, the counter, the lobby... ah, the cash. Then I can go._ She didn’t mind closing. It was quiet and peaceful, something she craved at times. The only thing she didn’t like much was the owner leaving her here alone to close. With the cities violence record growing every day, it worried her at times. However, tonight, none of those worries were present. Instead, she looked out the front windows with a deep, long sigh. She liked her life, she really did, but sometimes she wished it was a little... _more._

In any case. The floor was done. She dropped the mop into the bucket and pushed it into a corner to dump out in a few minutes. The redhead moved behind the counter and popped open the till, counting cash and coins in little piles when a familiar _ding_ chimed from the door. Startled, because she thought she put the closed sign up and locked the door, she shoved the money back in the till and slammed it shut. “Uh, sorry, we’re closed for the night.”

A tall man stood in the doorway, the door slowly falling shut behind him. He wore a fairly nice looking suit with a red tie, and had black hair sleeked back. He had the air of a smug person, but in this moment he seemed more surprised than anything. “Ah... shit.” He muttered under his breath before standing up straighter. “I’ll take a coffee, a blueberry muffin if you’ve got one.” He walked to a table and sat down, facing one of the front windows.

She just stared at him. She had no idea who this was, or who he thought he was either. They were closed. “I’ve already cleaned up the kitchen and cleaned out the pots. Sorry. We’re _closed._ ”

“Then just the muffin.” He nodded towards the display case. 

“Who do you think you are?” She grumbled, feeling under the counter blindly. She thought the owner had something for situations like this, something to protect herself or the store with, but maybe she was wrong. 

“Lucifer Morningstar.” The way he said his name held power and confidence, as if he knew his name meant business. 

“And I’m Natalie, but that doesn’t mean I can barge into a place and take what I want.” She scoffed.

Lucifer looked at her, startled almost. His name usually struck a chord of fear in people, or respect. He lead a prominent... group of likeminded individuals who didn’t follow the law as well as the police would have liked. His last name alone should have caused her to understand a small level of danger, but she seemed to just bulldoze through it. Either she didn’t care, or she didn’t know. He opened his mouth to inform her, politely, just who he was, before deciding against it. “Look, girl, I didn’t realize you were closed. I would _appreciate_ the muffin. You can keep cleaning up, and I’ll be gone in a few minutes.” He went back to looking out the window with a frown.

With a long winded sigh, she opened the display case and pulled out a single blueberry muffin, dropping it on the plate with little ceremony and carried it over to his table. She practically dropped it on the table, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t look at her as he spoke again. “Your service could be improved.”

Natalie’s eyes widened with a mock gasp. “Oh, how sorry I am for not being the perfect waitress. It’s only past eleven at night, after closing.” She bowed before straightening up and turning around. When he couldn’t see her face, she rolled her eyes before heading back behind the counter. Lucifer didn’t comment on her attitude. He seemed more focused on the world outside the front window. 

_Whatever. I have an interesting story to tell Mike, I guess._ Natalie popped the till open again, humming softly as she did so. Recounting cash, coins, checks. Double and triple checking the books for the day. She swayed gently to the music from the radio, her hums turning into soft singing. Lucifer’s ears perked up but his focus remained outside. He had a deep frown on his face. After about ten minutes, he stood up and walked to the counter, handing Natalie cash for the muffin. Far too much cash. “Call it a tip.” And without further comment, he headed out the door. 

She followed him to lock the door-yes, locked this time, she was sure of it-and flipped the closed sign up. She let out a sigh, looking at his table and debating if it needed to be cleaned again. She realized something that made her mad. 

His muffin. His damn muffin that he asked for, paid too much for, interrupted her night for. Sat untouched. 

“What’s his deal anyways!” She huffed. Doesn’t matter. She did the last bit of closing duties before leaving for home. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t see him again.


End file.
